Purple Orchids

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Abstract

miling mother, on one of her agonizing good days, placing a tragically beautiful orchid on her ear. She truly believed, hoped, this time their joy was going to last.</p><p id="22f0">Little did she know, like everything good in her life, it was only a matter of time until it inevitably wilted.</p><p id="aa52">“Miss, are you interested in our orchid arrangements?” the cashier inquired as he sprayed water on some needy flowers, his bubbly voice bringing her back to reality. A bit too chirpy for Melle’s taste. “It’s one of our more popular ones. Many of our clients love the — ”</p><p id="183a">“Yeah, I’ve heard. I’ll take the purple one.”</p><p id="5435">The cashier placed the basket on the counter gingerly, as if any movement might make the woman before him explode. “That’ll be $19.99. You’re lucky, today we have a Mother’s Day special — ”</p><p id="1f59">Melle slammed a crumpled twenty dollar bill on the counter, and grabbed the basket brusquely, a few fallen petals trailing her path while she exited in a haste. Natalie looked apologetically at the cashier, and handed him an extra five dollar bill as she mouthed “<i>Sorry</i>”.</p><p id="623d">She found Melle leaning on the wall next to the flower shop’s nauseatingly pleasant entrance, holding her now disheveled basket close to her chest, stifling her sneezes with her napkin.</p><p id="672c">“I thought I didn’t care about that wretched woman. Yet here I am, getting flowers for her grave.” she huffed, her watery eyes now flowing with tears. “God, I fucking hate flowers.”</p><p id="8181">“I know.”</p><p id="9a01"><i>Thank you for reading!</i></p><p id="05c2">If you enjoyed it, you can tip me through <a href="ht

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tp://ko-fi.com/omylaza">Ko-fi</a> or become a Medium member with <a href="https://omylaza.medium.com/membership">my referral code</a>!</p><figure id="9e83"><img src="https://cdn-images-1.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:800/1*xMuqY8_C93BukjCyYo62Tg.png"><figcaption></figcaption></figure><h1 id="2ff5">Be Open Says;</h1><div id="bbcd" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/be-open-submission-guidelines-41ea51ef4ef1"> <div> <div> <h2>We Invite You to Become Our Writer — Be Open Submission Guidelines</h2> <div><h3>You don’t have to be a great writer or super perfect human to contribute here. I believe everyone can become inspirator…</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*eBrTZS3wC0WwzBZjivi7tg.png)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><p id="cf9b"><b>Everyone can contribute to this Open Poem!</b></p><div id="a59b" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/open-poem-its-not-a-perfect-dream-46a40109d844"> <div> <div> <h2>Open Poem — It’s not a Perfect Dream…!</h2> <div><h3>STILL OPEN for You to contribute!</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*hzCWm2rBcX7iWS08kwVykw.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div></article></body>

And the obnoxiously cheery flower shop.

Melle and her partner Natalie entered the dreadful flower shop.

The playful chimes of its golden door bells teased her as they took her back to her woeful youth. A variety of bright flowers in their peak — a transitory joy — as Melle calls them, surrounded this shop from hell. Just as bleak as she remembered it.

The fresh fragrance of what felt like hundreds of bouquets assaulted her senses. Melle grunted as she dug deep inside of her pockets, searching for a napkin. “Fuck.” she muttered once she felt a sneeze coming in.

“Here.” Natalie instinctively handed her a white napkin, stifling her loud sneeze. “Thank you.” Melle squeezed her shoulder, her brief smile fading as she recalled why they are here. “Let’s get this over with.”

The woman approached the counter and saw an obnoxiously happy basket of purple orchids. She fixed her gaze intently on it, and her mind was taken elsewhere. A time she wished would remain murky in her mind, suddenly became crystal clear in her memory. Her smiling mother, on one of her agonizing good days, placing a tragically beautiful orchid on her ear. She truly believed, hoped, this time their joy was going to last.

Little did she know, like everything good in her life, it was only a matter of time until it inevitably wilted.

“Miss, are you interested in our orchid arrangements?” the cashier inquired as he sprayed water on some needy flowers, his bubbly voice bringing her back to reality. A bit too chirpy for Melle’s taste. “It’s one of our more popular ones. Many of our clients love the — ”

“Yeah, I’ve heard. I’ll take the purple one.”

The cashier placed the basket on the counter gingerly, as if any movement might make the woman before him explode. “That’ll be $19.99. You’re lucky, today we have a Mother’s Day special — ”

Melle slammed a crumpled twenty dollar bill on the counter, and grabbed the basket brusquely, a few fallen petals trailing her path while she exited in a haste. Natalie looked apologetically at the cashier, and handed him an extra five dollar bill as she mouthed “Sorry”.

She found Melle leaning on the wall next to the flower shop’s nauseatingly pleasant entrance, holding her now disheveled basket close to her chest, stifling her sneezes with her napkin.

“I thought I didn’t care about that wretched woman. Yet here I am, getting flowers for her grave.” she huffed, her watery eyes now flowing with tears. “God, I fucking hate flowers.”

“I know.”

Thank you for reading!

If you enjoyed it, you can tip me through Ko-fi or become a Medium member with my referral code!

SHORT STORY

Purple Orchids

And the obnoxiously cheery flower shop.

Be Open Says;

We Invite You to Become Our Writer — Be Open Submission Guidelines

You don’t have to be a great writer or super perfect human to contribute here. I believe everyone can become inspirator…

Open Poem — It’s not a Perfect Dream…!

STILL OPEN for You to contribute!